I took this picture when I was walking Milo on the trail Friday morning -- I wondered if these were blueberries or not. Fast forward to Monday, March 27th -- I just now realized I took this picture and posted it. Friday was such a whirlwind of a day at work -- just like every other day has been at work for a while now. One day I will leave all of this marketing stuff behind...
I had some thought while looking at the blueberries, but now I have no idea what it was. Now all I can think of is a blueberry banana smoothie from Hobee's -- and a piece of their yummy blueberry coffee cake.
A month or two ago, the boyfriend and I went to see
Walk the Line. Very good movie, I recommend picking it up if you haven't seen it, even if you don't care for Cash's music.
The theater was pretty packed that evening, and something happened that I found very odd. There's a scene towards the end of the movie where June and her family are trying to help get John off the drugs. They're holed up in his house with her mom and dad; John is going through withdrawal symptoms; he's laid up in bed.
Then, the dealer comes by to bring John some more pills. The dad goes up, yelling at the dealer, telling him to get the hell outta here, and waving his shotgun around. The dealer gets back in his car and slams it in reverse as the camera pans back. When the camera pans back, you can see mom standing there as well with her shotgun.
The entire theater erupts in laughter.It takes me a moment to figure out what they're laughing at, then I figure out it's the idea of a woman with a shotgun. That's not a common sight in California, I guess.
Frankly, I would have found the scene more believable if mom had said, "Get the hell out of here." to the dealer in a low, menacing voice, with the gun pointed dead on at him. Southern women are strong -- I know -- I have an entire family of these strong women. Sometimes they're too strong for their own good. (Plus, the only time I've heard the words, "Get down, she's liable to shoot us." was in relation some crazy woman an uncle of mine married).
I don't just mean strong in the physical sense, though they're that too. My grandmother won't blink an eye at ripping up the rocks in her foyer to re-grout or getting her hands into a project such as ripping out a wall to expand her house or carrying a park bench into her backyard. It's why her back goes out so often.
But, I also mean strong in the emotional sense too. When they go through rough patches, (nearly) no one knows it. Buck up; keep moving forward; don't let it keep you down. They keep their head up to keep their family from coming down to where they are.
The reason I say southern women are too strong for their own good -- they don't allow the men in their life to help them out. They're running headstrong into the next project or problem, and they'll tackle it
their way. If a man is around and wants to help, well, great, but adhere to what I'm already doing or go away. You end up with some very passive or very unhappy men in this situation. Or, you end up with a man who just doesn't want to interrupt anymore, which leads to the woman feeling like he never helps do anything and she's operating on her own in the world.
So, back to
Walk the Line. I knew both my mother and my aunt had seen the movie on separate occasions, so I explained the scene and the laughter. I was met with, "Why?".
I guess the scene wasn't as funny in the South.
That's the question I ask every time I pass the Transamerica Building. I'm always on foot when I pass it, so it's not like I'm seeing it in the skyline and wondering what the hell it is - it's more of an "Ooooh! Landmark!".
Yesterday was a rainy, cold day in Chinatown, but as you can see from the picture, the sun did come out to shine on us for a short while before setting. I think next weekend I need to head back up with my cameras in tow for a picture taking day. However, this means my lazy butt will have to get out of bed early.
I think it will be worth it. Maybe you will have some new pictures to look at in
Travels & Meanderings soon. As a side note, this site will be updated *very* soon, so start watching for a new look!
My mind is still very much stuck in a kid's mentality. Bright colors and shiny objects attract my attention easily.
Yesterday was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining, the sky was the brilliant color of blue I love (doesn't rival the southwest desert's blue, but close enough), big fluffy clouds were hanging in the sky. Everything on land is a brilliant shade due to the rain we've been having - flowers are blooming, trees blossoming, grasses are yellow-green. And as a backdrop there are snowcapped mountains -- it's like something out of a book.
Days like this put my mind in a euphoric state and get my creative juices flowing.
I had blood drawn last Thursday. At the time, I thought the doctor did a terrific job -- it took a split second, he didn't beat on my veins like some of the nurses do, it was over in a flash.
Thursday my arm hurt; Friday my arm hurt; Saturday my arm hurt. I thought I was just being a big baby about it, but it really did hurt -- I couldn't straighten my arm out.
Saturday night I take off my shirt and look at my arm, and holy shit -- it looked about like the picture above (taken today) only all black and blue shades, no greens and yellows like I have now. I was not being a baby! (Thursday and Friday my arm looked fine, lily white as always.)
Keep in mind this was just from a simple blood draw where nothing went wrong. There were no "I can't find your veins", no multiple attempts, just 1, 2, 3, done. But, for some reason, it looks like tiny mafia elves went to town on my arm. I can imagine them: "Oh, you don't want to pay up, huh?" Thwack! with a tiny baseball bat to my arm. "You better have my money by Monday, or there'll be more where this came from!" as his cronies kick and beat me while I lay in the fetal position crying.
This shit hurts still.
While departing for our weekend got off to a rocky start (not going to focus on that) and ended with a somewhat rocky departure (also not going to focus on that), what was in between was a fun, fun time.
This weekend was the annual Barrel Tasting weekend in the
Russian River Valley area of Sonoma. We started our day at the
Village Inn in Monte Rio, which was right up my alley. It used to be called the Holiday Inn after
the Bing Crosby/Fred Astaire movie, and part of the film was supposedly shot there, so there were pictures and autographs and scores from
White Christmas in the bar area (anyone who knows me well knows I got a big kick outta this). Plus, our room looked directly out over the river, which was swollen from the tremendous amount of rain from this week and season. Watching the river could have kept me captivated for hours.
But onto the real reason we were there -- around 11 am we headed out to the wineries. The first stop was
Hop Kiln, which is now a new favorite of mine, though not merely because of the wine. First, the setting is amazing: beautiful countryside, with snow-capped mountains in the background, and the winery's tasting room is indeed in a historical hop kiln. My second reason for loving this place: the staff. They were extremely friendly, chatty, *happy* people who were very helpful but not pushy. Then there was the food - condiments, actually. I picked up a tasty pear butter and jalapeno mustard here. And finally, the wine! The stuff in the barrels was good (I'm sure it will be superb in a couple of years when it ages) but I found 2 very tasty wines they are selling now: 2005 Thousand Flowers and NV Rushin' River Red.
So from Hop Kiln we left with 3 bottles of wine in a case box (we were anticipating buying much, much more today), a subscription to a wine club, some tasty condiments, some hats (Got Wine?) and our two tasting glasses, which I felt odd sitting in the cup-holders in my car (is that really legal? they still had wine in them... just drops that we didn't get a chance to rinse out, but still...).
Our next stop was Lambert Bridge, which had a very snooty air to it. I'm not sure if it was the "Reserved: Club Members only" signs that were posted here and there, the throngs of people that came together, or the $5.00 tasting fee on the current wines, but something was off here. They did, however, have some very cute trucks parked outside.
On the road again and our next stop was
Unti Vineyards which was jam-packed with people. There were some nice watercolors on the wall by Linda Unti (who I can only assume is one of the proprieters) and I decided I really loved the Barbera here.
Then we were onto
Nalle where we not only picked up some wonderful wine (needed to get started on packing that case again) but I got a fun sweatshirt as well that put a big smile on my face (4 out of 5 fruit flies surveyed prefer Nalle Zin -- the 5th fruit fly is passed out).
Back on the road and our last stop (for wine) was an area with multiple wineries in one place (thank you Mark @ Village Inn for the recommendation). By this time in the day there were quite a few Barrel-Weekend-goers that were completely blitz-krieged, walking in the middle of the road carrying their wine glasses. We almost finished filling our case here with wines from
Peterson Winery,
Amphora (great petite sirah), and
Papapietro-Perry.
We finished off the day in Healdsburg, and my only regret is that we didn't go to Toad Hollow's tasting room as we figured we would do it the next day. Sunday morning we were all revved up to hit Toad Hollow and Limerick Lane (saving our two favorites for last), despite the fact that it was pouring the rain. Unfortunately, we had a bit of car trouble, and once we got it started we decided it best to high-tail it home while the car was still running. Oh well, our case was full, so I guess that was devine intervention saying, "You have enough wine -- go home to your dog!"
